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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27019255">Memorial</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/KipRussel/pseuds/KipRussel'>KipRussel</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Control (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Bad Dreams, Gen, Post-Game, an anon sent me a headcanon for arish about him and his ranger buddies and the awe in albany, and i was like hmmmmm fic, and wrote this, as well as the Hiss situation oop., ily arish, its the emotional aftermath that an AWE like that would have on you</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 03:01:38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>831</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27019255</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/KipRussel/pseuds/KipRussel</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The full moon paints the whole warehouse black and white-- illuminating the sides and peeking through the big glass windows. Arish feels drawn to go inside. It’s far more than a sense of duty-- the eagerness he felt had melted away long ago. Something is compelling him inside-- a feeling of dread, a force, a physical pull. He has to go inside. The rest of the trainees are in there. His squad. His friends.</p><p>They’re all calling for him. For backup. For help. He can’t make out a direction of the cries as they echo off the ceiling. The walls shift violently into new corridors, pushing in toward the center, jutting out toward the edges.</p><p>He can hear their screams so clearly now.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Memorial</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p></p><div class="">
  <p>The full moon paints the whole warehouse black and white-- illuminating the sides and peeking through the big glass windows. Arish feels drawn to go inside. It’s far more than a sense of duty-- the eagerness he felt had melted away long ago. Something is compelling him inside-- a feeling of dread, a force, a physical pull. He <em>has</em> to go inside. The rest of the trainees are in there. His squad. His friends.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The moonlight fractals and shifts against the walls as the warehouse begins to warp. The urgency grows, heart hammering in his chest, as he tries to push through the door in the side. His squad never exited like they were supposed to, and he knows deep down something is wrong. This night was never going to be just a training exercise. It never is.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The door flings open and flies off the hinges, spinning into the center of the warehouse, banging into walls and obstacles in the way. Arish knows the Altered Item is in the center, but he can’t see it. The light is too hazy, the paths are too dark. There’s no clear shot to the item. Or to anyone. He’s standing on the threshold, frozen.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>They’re all calling for him. For backup. For help. He can’t make out a direction of the cries as they echo off the ceiling. The walls shift violently into new corridors, pushing in toward the center, jutting out toward the edges.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He can hear their screams so clearly now.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He takes off in a sprint, cutting corners and dipping around walls, trying to navigate the ever-shifting maze. He nearly collides with Cho in one corner as the walls push in closer, the ranger desperately reaching out for Arish as the sides of the maze press in. Arish barely manages to pull him to safety, stumbling to keep his footing as the ground under him shifts again. A wall slides between them, separating them, cutting Arish off from the exit, but he hardly has time to consider it as he sweeps forward, looking for the others in the chaos. He can’t think with the ever changing lights and the barrage of sound and the screaming.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The whole warehouse practically grows red now, the light pulsing and covering the whole room, blindingly saturated in the night. Arish’s heart pounds in his chest as he runs. He feels like he’s being chased. He knows he’s being chased.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He reaches for his weapon and finds it missing. He can hear his friends mocking him, chastising him. This is his fault. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You weren’t prepared. <em>We weren’t trained for this. </em>You weren’t there. <em>I didn’t know. </em>You didn’t make it. <em>I tried. </em>You didn’t try hard enough. <em>I’m doing as much as I can. </em>You should’ve known better. <em>I should have known better. </em>You left us.It’s your fault. Why didn’t you help us?</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Arish hears Remus is calling out for help nearby and doubles down, running harder, pushing himself, scrambling to get to him. He turns down the corridor and sees Remus at the end of the hall. The room shifts again, dragging Arish forward, flinging Remus up against the wall. Arish shouts as he watches his friend twist and writhe in pain. He feels the dread in his stomach rise into a shout of terror as Remus morphs and twists into a red glowing mass of Hiss. He can hear the inhuman screeches of more corrupted Hiss echo through the room, across the spanse, into his head. <em>It’s your fault.</em></p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Arish jerks awake in his bunk. His eyes dart around the room as he quickly swallows back a gasp and tries to pick out where he is. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The FBC. He’s in one of the bunkers. The lights are dimmed. The door is open. Some researchers and rangers are in cots, sleeping on the floor below him. An HRA is strapped around all of them. He can feel the weight of his pendant as it swings and hits his chest.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“<em>God,” </em>he whispers through gritted teeth, pressing the palms of his hands against his eyes. He takes a minute to breathe, letting his arms fall limp into his lap as he sits up, scanning the walls and reading the posters, trying to ground himself. He eventually decides sleep isn’t in the cards and quietly gets to his feet, weaving between the cots and blankets of his coworkers</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He’s had the dream before. He really hasn’t had a year without it. He has it once, if he’s lucky. But this is a whole new beast. <em>Damn. Kinda thought I was handling all this</em>, he thinks, almost laughing to himself. He pulls the pouch off the cord around his neck and tugs it open, counting each silver bullet. <em>Seven.</em></p>
</div><div class="">
  <p><em>What would’ve happened if I stayed a ranger?</em> </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He loops the cord back around the pouch, cinching it tight, and puts it back on, letting the new weight of it settle.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <em>I won’t let anyone forget you.</em>
  </p>
</div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thank you lovely anon who sent me the ask that prompted this ilysm</p></blockquote></div></div>
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